


The Three Trials Of Segeeth

by Lenore



Series: Inaureme [2]
Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe, Krypton, M/M, Rituals, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-28
Updated: 2011-08-28
Packaged: 2017-10-23 03:23:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/245753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenore/pseuds/Lenore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lex sets out to prove himself and win Kal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Three Trials Of Segeeth

**I. In the beginning**

_From the Collected Works of Kryptonian Mythology_

In the time before the Light, in the land between the seas, there lived the son of a nobleman, called Numan, and the son of a slave, Segeeth. The father of Segeeth labored in the house of Numan’s father, and Segeeth was brought up alongside Numan, as a companion to him, because he had no brother or sister. Side-by-side, they were taught to read and cipher and fight, and in the fields, they ran and laughed with the joyful abandon of children.

But the bond between them that had been filial in childhood blossomed into passion as they grew to be youths, and in the long, hot afternoons they would go down to the river to swim and then lie together in the shade of the Okala trees at the water’s edge.

It was here that they were caught one unlucky afternoon, discovered by Segeeth’s own father. “You will answer for this, you ungrateful cur,” he railed at his son.

“Go! Run!” Numan implored his lover.

But Segeeth was resolute. “I would rather die than be parted from you, Numan.”

Segeeth was taken to the granary and chained there to await his punishment. The master himself came to rain blows upon him, cursing him for an impudent wretch. Segeeth suffered it all without crying for mercy or begging for forgiveness, and this only incensed the master further.

“Tomorrow, when the sun reaches its zenith, you will be returned to the pathetic dust from which you came, a lesson to all who would overreach their station.”

Segeeth bowed his head, accepting his fate, but when word reached Numan, who had been locked in his chamber to contemplate his disgrace, he went wild with grief and wept bitter tears that lasted all night and into the day.

On the morrow, the master’s wife found her husband in the garden, trying to turn deaf ears to his son’s sorrow. “If you do this thing, our son will be as dead to you as the slave boy come the sun’s zenith.”

“Pray, what would you have me do?” the master demanded. “Ignore the insult offered to this house? Countenance this debasing union?”

“Indeed not. I merely entreat you to consider your methods more carefully, my husband. A wise man does not stoop to kill a moth with his hand. Light a fire, and it will do the deed itself, with far less trouble to you.”

The master stilled, grasping the import of the words, and he shared a smile with his lady. “There is much sense in your counsel, good wife. I will do as you say.”

Come the zenith, all those belonging to the master’s house gathered in the courtyard where punishments were meted out. Segeeth was fetched from the granary and made to stand atop the pillory to hear the death warrant read. Numan had to be restrained by three strong men to keep him from rushing to his true love’s side.

The crowd waited to hear the sentence pronounced, but the master surprised them saying, “The ancient texts speak of courage in the service of love, a nobility of spirit that burns deep and bright enough to sear away the impediments of birth. Segeeth, if your love for my son is such as this, you will be given a chance to prove it. I set before your three tasks, each more perilous than the last. If you accomplish all, then you shall prove yourself worthy of Numan. If you fail, you perish. What say you? Will you accept the challenge, or give in to your fate here and now?”

Segeeth spoke in a clear voice, “I accept your challenge, and by the strength of my love, I will prevail.”

The master nodded, and Segeeth was helped down from the pillory to face his trials.

“For the first task, you will journey to Mount Olima and bring back one blue pomegranate,” the master proclaimed, and the crowd gasped.

Mount Olima was inhabited by thorgs, a race of giant, three-toed dragons, and blue pomegranates were not to be found anywhere else.

“And when I have accomplished that, master, what shall I do?” Segeeth answered with perfect composure.

The master frowned at the slave’s impertinence, but he continued on in a dignified manner, “For your second task, you must do battle against the Grypyth in the cave where it dwells, defeat it, and as a sign of your victory, bring back its head to me.”

Again the crowd drew in its breath, because many had fought the Grypth, and all had perished.

“And when I have accomplished that, master, what shall I do then?” Segeeth answered again.

His cool bravado so outraged the master that his face turned a dangerous scarlet, and he thundered, “Then you must sail across the Great Northern Sea to the frozen land, find the lost jewel of Namahth, and return with it here.”

At this, the crowd moaned, and Numan sank to his knees, crying out for his father to have mercy. The Great Northern Sea was treacherous, and no one who had set out for the frozen land had ever been seen again. Most people believed the lost jewel of Namahth to be merely a legend.

But the master had no mercy to spare for an impudent slave who had lain with his son. “These are your three trials. Do you accept them?”

Segeeth bowed deeply and said, “Yes, master. I do.” Then he rose and made the crowd gasp one last time by adding, “And when I have accomplished them all and returned to this place, Numan will be mine.”

The master’s lips curved into a canny smile and he said, “ _If_ you survive, of course.”

Segeeth rested that night, and at dawn the next day was given a ration of food, a knife and some water. Numan was allowed to see him off and hung weeping about his neck until Segeeth gently removed his arms. “Your courage will be tested as surely as mine, my love,” he said. “Be patient and always believe that you will see me again, and all will be well.”

With that and a kiss, he departed.

Each day Numan sat at the window, watching and waiting for his beloved to return. A month passed in this way, then another and another.

“We must begin to consider that your slave boy has failed in his quest,” his father told him after six months had gone by. “It is time for you to marry. We must look for a suitable match.”

“No, Father. I will see Segeeth again,” he said with utter certainty. “He will be my husband.”

The master was not a man to be easily put off, and his dearest ambition was to see his only child well settled. He put out the word across the land, inviting noblemen and women to come to woo Numan. Whoever could make him forget the lost slave boy would win his hand.

Many noblemen and women came. Not only was the master a wealthy man, but Numan was exceedingly fair, a fine husband for whomever could win his favor. The master arranged a party in honor of each suitor. Numan would have stayed away, but his father rebuked him, “A son of this house will not treat his guests with such grievous disrespect.”

Numan was made to eat and drink with all his suitors, to talk and to dance and suffer their attentions. At the end of every evening, he bid them a polite goodnight and returned to his place at the window, to wait for his one true love.

And so the years passed, the first and the second and the third. By the end of the fourth, the master had had enough.

“Numan,” he ordered, “your slave boy has failed. You refuse to acknowledge the obvious and will not choose from among the many eligible suitors I have brought before you. So I will make the choice myself. On the eve of the next full moon, you will wed.”

“No, Father. I will see Segeeth again. My faith is strong.”

The master sneered. “Then you are a fool, my son. Segeeth has been dead these three years at least. Prepare yourself. In two week’s time, the one I choose for you will lead you to the marriage bed.”

Numan spent every moment of every day of those weeks pitifully weeping and begging his father to reconsider, but the master’s heart was hardened to his son’s grief, and the plans for the wedding went forward.

On the day he was to be married, Numan refused to don the ceremonial robes that were customary, and instead wore the plain gray tunic normally reserved for mourning. At the sun’s setting, all the people belonging to the master’s house assembled in the courtyard where the master was dressed in his finest raiment to preside over the ceremony. He had chosen a lady from a distant land to be united with Numan, a woman of means but little warmth, more interested in her husband-to-be’s gold than his charms.

The master raised his hands to quiet the assembly, but as he started to recite the first stanza of the marriage blessing, the arrival of a dusty stranger on the back of a battered, ancient donkey interrupted him.

“Friend, you must see that we have important business here,” the master addressed him. “I must ask that you leave at once.”

But the stranger did not turn around. Instead, he alighted from the donkey’s back and approached the canopy where the master and the betrothed couple stood. “This business concerns me as much as it does anyone.”

Before the master could muster another word, the stranger opened his pack and dropped at the master’s feet three curious items: a blue pomegranate, the shrunken, leathery head of a creature that must have once been quite fierce, and a glittering jewel the precise shade of pink at sunset.

“Segeeth!” Numan cried out, only now recognizing his lover beneath the dust, and he rushed into his arms.

Segeeth stroked his hair and whispered, “I told you that we would surely see each other again.” And then he addressed the master, “How good of you to have the ceremony prepared for my arrival. I am most eager to claim my prize.”

The master sputtered, and the noblewoman who had thought to claim Numan for herself objected, but Segeeth only smiled, silently daring the master to go back on his word, to dishonor himself in front of all the people belonging to his house.

In the end, the master could only bow his head in defeat. The noblewoman from the distant land left strewing curses, and Segeeth took his rightful place at Numan’s side. The master raised his hands and however grudgingly bestowed the marriage blessing. That evening, after the feasting and the dancing and many, many stories traded of all that had happened in the past four years, it was Segeeth who led Numan, at long last, to the marriage bed.

It is written that as the two lovers came together that night—courage meeting patience, nobility united with purity of heart—a great light appeared in the sky. And that light was so brilliant and so piercing and lasted for so long that all who saw it dropped to their knees in wonder. When the married couple rose from bed the next morning, Numan possessed the strength of ten men, and Segeeth the wisdom of the ancients. Hand in hand, these two who had become one, brought the Light to all the land, and Krypton prospered unto one hundred times one hundred years.

So the story is told.

* * *

  


**II. In the end**

You could simply love a child too much; Jor-El felt this for the first time the day Kal was put into his arms. He had been to other birthing ceremonies of course, had fathered three other children, but he had never seen a baby so beautiful, the light of Inaure shining in his face from the first moment. He would always remember how those tiny hands reached for him, curling into fists around his fingers, the newborn grip surprisingly strong. Jor-El himself had never felt his own frailties more profoundly. No one warned you about this, the terrified helplessness that came to live in your chest when you held the child of your heart. Kryptonians did not speak of such things, naturally. It would not be seemly.

As Kal had grown, the light in him had not faded, if anything it had gained in strength. He had gone from sunny-faced infant to sunny little boy to luminous young man. It was only in the weeks since his inaureme, since Jor-El had spoken to him seriously about his future, that this light had dimmed. Now Kal made a quiet show of picking at his food at the dinner table, stared forlornly out the window in the afternoons in place of his usual amusements. Jor-El put on an equally convincing display of ignoring him. He could not afford to be indulgent. Kal had no idea how unforgiving society could be, how cold life was when its doors were closed against you, and Jor-El intended that he should never know it.

There were times, though, when he saw Kal’s shoulders sagging, felt the weight of his son’s cares as he bowed his head over his lessons, that it pierced him with its unhappy familiarity. It was a trial to be the last born, Jor-El knew too well, to bear the weight of long denied ambitions. The honor of every house was carried on the backs of its children. Jor-El would have given much to spare Kal that burden, but the world was the world, and there was no help for it.

He had expected—or perhaps merely hoped—that the obsession with the Earthman would fade. Sometimes when an inaureme was especially propitious, the young person went through a period of infatuation with their saleelam afterwards. It was only to be expected and normally passed rather quickly. Jor-El felt no real fear about it until the day the headmaster at Kal’s school alerted him that Kal had made an unauthorized communication on the library’s computer. He’d entered the name of a ship into the Interstellar Transportation Commission’s database to find the number of the landing bay where it was docked. Jor-El recognized the name of the Earthman’s ship at once.

There was no use checking the school’s physics lab, he realized. Kal would not be there, the experiment he was supposedly tending merely an excuse. For a few desperate moments, he contemplated storming down to the starpad, forgetting propriety entirely, dragging Kal home by the scruff of his neck. He was sorely tempted to do it, but a voice in his head kept reminding him of the inconvenient truth, that the boy was of age now, the responsibility for making such decisions his own. Jor-El had either taught him well or failed him miserably. He sat down heavily at his desk, feeling every moment pass as he waited to see if his son would be lost to him forever.

When Kal finally stepped through the door, the first thing Jor-El noticed was that the light had come back to his face.

“I’m sorry I’m so late, Father. It took longer than I expected.” He dropped his books where they didn’t belong just as he did every afternoon.

Even the relief of seeing Kal again did not immediately ease the clench in Jor-El’s chest. “You spent the time in study, bringing honor to your house. There is no need for apology, my son.”

He meant it to sting, and it did the trick. Kal ducked his head, his cheeks coloring brilliantly. He made no answer, apparently too ashamed to tell more lies.

Kal deserved a guilty conscience for contemplating such spectacular disobedience, and yet Jor-El felt petty for baiting him. After all, the boy had ultimately chosen what was right.

He made his voice gentler. “I was just puzzling over some work of my own. Perhaps you’d like to have a look?”

Kal glanced at him, taken by surprise. “Really?”

Since he was little, he’d been fascinated by his father’s research and always wanted to help. Jor-El was a miserly scientist though, a fact he’d recognized about himself long ago, collaboration simply not in his nature. He’d tutored Kal in geophysics over the years, but had never really shared his work.

“You are of age now. It is time to think seriously of a career,” he said in a sober voice, but Kal was not the least bit taken in by it. His face lit with pleasure as he joined Jor-El at the computer.

“You’re monitoring shifts in the tectonic plates, trying to use the data to develop an algorithm to predict future seismic events,” Kal surmised as he studied the screen.

“Precisely.”

Kal pointed to a sequence of the equation. “Perhaps a slight adjustment here.” He picked up the stylus and added it.

Jor-El leaned in for a closer look. Here was a possibility he had not considered before, and the equation flowed more elegantly because of it. “Well done, my son,” he said with a nod. “Well done.”

He met Kal’s eye in congratulations, but the boy’s expression had turned very serious. “I’m sorry, father,” he whispered. “Forgive me.”

Jor-El had never learned to show his heart; his father had drummed this into him, the belief that a wise man did not indulge in such displays of weakness. He had so often envied Lara her easy, affectionate ways with the boy. This once, he let himself follow her example and patted Kal on the shoulder. “Where the right choice has been made, no harm has been done, my son. There is nothing to forgive.”

Kal looked relieved. “Thank you, father.”

He went back to perusing the equation, and in that moment, if Jor-El could have had his dearest wish, he would have kept Kal right there at his side forever.

* * *

A month after Kal-El’s inaureme, the anticipated invitation came from the temple. It was the custom for recent celebrants to dine with the priest not long after their coming of age, one of the new privileges of adulthood. In the evening, father and son donned their formal robes and set out for the inauremista, Kal clad for the first time in the dark blue worn by adults on ceremonial occasions. He held himself very straight, his head high, the flush of excitement in his cheeks at his first official outing as a grownup.

The priest met them at the door. “Welcome. We are honored to receive members of the house of El.” He bowed, and they returned the greeting. “Kal-El, may your days be long and productive, filled with the light of Inaure,” he pronounced the traditional blessing and then smiled genially. “Now, let us go have our supper, and you can tell me how you’re finding adulthood so far.”

Kal fell into step with him. “Father has been letting me help with his research.”

“Indeed?” the priest said. “I want to hear all the details.”

Jor-El followed a little behind them, so Kal would not see his smile. That smile disappeared at once when he came into the dining chamber and found the Earthman waiting there. The shock of pleasure on Kal’s face had some cold consolation in it. At least this meeting had not been at his son’s conniving.

The priest sensed Jor-El’s displeasure and hastened to explain, “Lex Luthor came to me with a proposal I thought you should hear. Shall we sit down to dinner? We can discuss it afterwards.”

Jor-El responded as etiquette demanded, bowed to the Earthman, said the obligatory words in a frozen voice, “We are honored to dine with one who has served the house of El.” To offer less to a business associate and his son’s saleelam would disgrace him in front of them all.

They took places at the table, and Jor-El made certain to keep Kal next to him, as far from the Earthman as he could get him. Attendants served the meal, and the priest did his best to make small talk while they ate.

“I believe you have recently returned from some business abroad, Lex Luthor. Is that correct?”

“Yes,” the Earthman told him, “just this morning. I transported some medical supplies to the Xanthra system.”

“I suppose you were too busy to stop on Xanthra Seven for a visit to the Chaumu Falls,” the priest said. “It’s lovely this time of year.”

The Earthman shook his head. “Although I do hope to get back that way again under more relaxing circumstances, with some other company than a freighter’s crew.” His eyes fell on Kal. “More pleasant company.”

Kal stared back at him across the table with a hopelessly dreamy expression. The truly galling part of this whole situation for Jor-El was that it only existed because he’d wanted Kal’s inaureme to be joyous and had chosen the saleelam he seemed to prefer. Why an alien, and a human at that, he would never understand, but if that was what the boy wanted, then that was what the boy would have.

Of course, Lara would have preferred Kal to have no inaureme at all. She had not undergone the ceremony herself and disapproved of the ritual. Jor-El had been the one who’d insisted on it, although his own coming of age had hardly been propitious. It was the accepted thing, what they did in the house of El. Only when it came time to choose the saleelam did Jor-El truly understand the enormity of what he was doing, putting the light of his life at the mercy of a stranger.

After the Earthman had taken Kal into the inner chamber, Jor-El had stayed in the main salon, waiting for it to be over. Even after the others got up to go, and Lara put a hand on his shoulder, telling him that she’d see to their guests back at the house. Even then, Jor-El had stayed, keeping vigil all night, the priest bringing him tea every now and then, otherwise leaving him be. Some parents exulted at their child’s inaureme, others grieved. Jor-El had not expected to be the latter, but there it was.

The priest cleared his throat and steered the conversation into a more innocuous direction, “The weather has been unseasonably cool, has it not?”

They all murmured in agreement and finished their meal. The dishes were cleared away, the tea served. Then the priest got down to business. “Lex Luthor came to consult with me about certain intricacies of our customs,” he told Jor-El. “He let it be known that he wished to make the offer of talaureme to Kal-El, but was not certain how to proceed or if the house of El would be receptive to such an offer.”

“Taulaureme?” Kal looked to his father in confusion.

The priest explained, “It’s an extended period of tutelage that the saleelam sometimes agrees to provide, to help the young person prepare for marriage. It’s done as a gesture of respect to the house.”

Kal ducked his head and blushed.

Jor-El locked his jaw. “And did you enlighten the Earthman that talaureme is a custom from the distant past, no longer commonly practiced?”

“I did.” The priest hesitated. “But I also told him that there was no impediment to its practice. It has simply fallen out of favor, because most saleelams consider it tedious. Lex Luthor assured me that he would consider it a great honor to serve your house by continuing to instruct Kal-El in the ways of adulthood. And so I agreed to act as his intermediary.”

The Earthman spoke up then, “Indeed, as His Reverence says, I am most eager to serve. It is a great honor for a humble offworlder like myself to have a connection with the esteemed house of El, an honor that I surely do not deserve. To repay that debt of dignity, I would naturally do anything in my power to show my respect for your family.”

Jor-El ignored the patent flattery and replied with a sneer, “If an inaureme is performed properly, a talaureme is hardly necessary. Am I to understand that you discharged your duties incompetently?”

The Earthman bowed his head in a counterfeit of humility. “An alien may need more opportunities to accomplish what a Kryptonian would do right the first time.”

Jor-El glared at the Earthman, infuriated by his blatant bending of the truth. He had been the first inside the chamber after Kal’s initiation, the precise second the Earthman’s allotted time with his son was up. When he’d seen Kal lying there naked, used, imaging all the revolting acts the alien had performed on him, he had been sickened that they subjected children to such things. But then he’d looked into Kal’s face, and the light of Inaure had been shining there more brilliantly than ever. Though he was hard-pressed to understand it, Jor-El had to concede that the Earthman had proven an effective saleelam. The notion that a period of talaureme was in any way necessary was utterly ridiculous.

“Lex Luthor, you do our house honor. We thank you,” Jor-El replied with a curt nod of the head. “But we shall not ask anything further of you. The service you have already rendered is more than enough.”

The priest frowned; he did not detect the Earthman’s guile or understand why Jor-El would turn down such a generous offer. “It would make Kal-El more marriageable,” he smiled in Kal’s direction, “not that his prospects are not already very bright. But to be well tutored in the proper submission would help ease the adjustment to married life and go a long way toward ensuring his future happiness.”

Jor-El could feel Kal’s eyes fastened on him, could imagine the beseeching expression in them. He schooled himself not to look, but the weakness his own father had so scorned robbed him of his will. He turned his head, and Kal’s face was so bright with hope that Jor-El could not imagine how any father could bear to extinguish such a light.

 _You really could love a child too much._ “What will you require in exchange for this favor?” he found himself asking.

The Earthman did him the courtesy of not looking too smug. “Nothing at all,” he replied. “Just the honor of serving your house.”

Jor-El held back a sigh and inclined his head. “Very well, then.” He nodded to Kal that it was time for them to go.

“Wonderful.” The priest got to his feet. “I’m glad we could conclude our business so advantageously. I’ll draw up the appropriate documents to formalize the arrangement.”

Jor-El addressed Lex with as much good grace as he could feign, “We will receive you in two week’s time. You may begin your service then.”

Lex bowed deeply, and Jor-El hurried Kal from the room. He did not miss the backward glance that his son cast in the Earthman’s direction or the longing in it. He let out the sigh he’d been holding in all evening. He supposed accepting this talaureme had simply been inevitable.

* * *

Jor-El stood at the communications console, idly drumming his fingers as he contemplated the transmission he must make. He’d been loitering there, frozen of purpose, for the past five minutes at least. He rebuked himself for such foolishness and punched in the access code. On screen a moment later his eldest daughter appeared.

“Shara-Jan, on this the anniversary of your birth, may the blessings of Inaure be with you and yours, health and prosperity unto one hundred times one hundred years,” he greeted her.

Shara-Jan inclined her head, rather stiffly. Her hair was dressed in the elaborate fashion of the capital, making her features seem rather severe. Truly, she reminded him of his late wife. “You honor me with your well wishes, Father. May the blessings of Inaure be with you and yours, as well.”

Now that the formalities were out of the way, Jor-El foundered for a way to continue the conversation, “I trust that Gar-Ahn is well.”

“You honor me by inquiring of my husband. He is quite well. I will relay that you asked after him,” Shara-Jan answered coolly.

“And Jal-Ahn?”

“You further honor me by inquiring of my daughter. She, too, is well.”

“Perhaps I could speak with her?”

“She is occupied with study at present. I will relay your greetings,” Shara-Jan told him.

“Very well then. I hope you will enjoy the celebration of your day, my daughter.”

Another brief nod of the head, and Shara-Jan was gone.

Jor-El stepped away from the console with a weary sigh, a hollowness in him, the way he always felt when dealing with his three elder children. It was as if they were not even of his blood for all the connection there existed between them. Sela-Jan, his first wife, had been doggedly traditional, and in the old fashion had claimed the fruit of their union as her own, her right as head of the household. Jor-El had had no hand at all in raising them. Sela-Jan had named them, taught them, commanded their loyalty from their first moments. Jor-El had rarely even been left alone with them.

Now that they were grown with families of their own, he saw them infrequently, spoke with them only when custom demanded. Their conversations were always like this one, stilted, filled with obligation rather than affection. What affection could there be among virtual strangers after all? When Jor-El had taken Lara as his wife, he had promised himself that their children would know—would love—father and mother equally in the modern way.

If only all his decisions brought him such satisfaction.

It was the first night of the talaureme, and when the Earthman arrived, Jor-El felt the regret well up in him immediately. He should never have given in to this.

Still, decorum was decorum, and he invited the Earthman to have a seat in the salon, did his best to make small talk. “You had a successful trip to the Marqos system?” he asked.

“Very,” the Earthman said. “I heard that you’re presenting your work on tectonic shifts to the Geophysics Council.”

“Indeed.” Jor-El bowed his head. “I am very honored to have been asked.”

They fell quiet now that the niceties had been observed. Kal did nothing to further the conversation. In fact, he looked as if he’d been struck by lightening, his eyes wide, fastened on the Earthman, following his every movement with intense yearning.

Jor-El’s patience came quickly to an end. He rose and bowed to the Earthman. “The house of El thanks you for your service. I will leave you to begin the talaureme.”

He took refuge in his study and did his best to absorb himself in some tricky calculations he’d been wrestling with all week, hoping it would distract him. The first ungodly noise had him out of his chair and halfway down the hall before he realized what it was, stopped in his tracks, and hastened back to his study. To his dismay, the racket didn’t stop, but actually grew worse. He had always believed the house to be well constructed, but Kal’s talaureme made the unhappy thinness of its walls painfully evident. He gave up the pretense of work and fled out to the greenhouse where Lara was busily cultivating a new variety of butterfly orchid.

“Do you hear that infernal noise?” he complained, rubbing his temples. “I should never have agreed to this.”

“You did wish to enhance Kal’s marriage prospects. The talaureme will surely accomplish that.”

Jor-El frowned at his wife, uncertain whether she was being purposefully ironic or actually trying to make him feel better. Worrying whether Kal would make an auspicious first match was hardly something she paid any mind to. No one in her family, a house of visionaries and artists, felt the importance of such things.

The pounding in his head grew more insistent. He must have looked rather miserable because when Lara glanced up again her expression turned milder. “You chose a saleelam for your son who made his initiation into adulthood joyous. And now you have given him this talaureme, which has also made him quite happy. You have done well by our Kal, my husband.”

Her words brought to mind thoughts of his father, memories of his own coming of age so long ago, and his grudge against the Earthman eased a bit.

Lara read his expression—she knew him too well sometimes—and she chose her words carefully, “You’ve never really spoken of your inaureme.”

What was there to say? His father had sold him to a dowager from a respectable family, a woman with a taste for boys and inflicting pain, his body in exchange for certain political considerations. His father’s ambitions had been grandiose even for the house of El, and a son was a small sacrifice to help bring them to fruition. There were times when Jor-El could still feel that woman’s icy touch on his skin.

“It was not very propitious then?” Lara asked gently.

He shook his head. “That is not how I would describe it, no.”

Lara laid her hand on his shoulder. “I am sorry, my husband. It grieves me to hear this. But perhaps there is some consolation for your sorrow in Kal’s joy? Is that not why you chose the Earthman in the first place? Why you agreed to this talaureme?”

He nodded. “You are right, my wife. I have—wished it to be different for our son.”

Lara touched his face, and he closed his eyes at her gentleness. Her touch was the first that had ever warmed him, and no one should have to wait so long for that. Marriage would bring its travails, that was inevitable, but for now at least Kal would be happy.

* * *

There was an old saying on Krypton, “The more mauzoo nut cookies you have the less sweet they taste.” Jor-El rather hoped this would be the case with his son’s talaureme, but sadly familiarity only seemed to breed in Kal the need to babble endlessly about the Earthman, at every conceivable opportunity.

“Did you know that Lex is considered the best pilot at the starpad?” he would say, completely out of the blue.

“Lex transported food and medicine to Argos when there was an outbreak of the Virulian plague there,” he reported one evening over dinner. “No one else would go near the planet. But Lex said that people don’t deserve to starve to death just because they have the bad luck to get sick. He saved thousands of lives.”

“You won’t guess what Lex is working on now, father,” Kal interrupted Jor-El’s own research to tell him. “An interstellar engine that will break the speed barrier. He’s almost finished the theoretical work. Isn’t that exciting?”

On and on it went. He became most unbearable the few days just before one of the Earthman’s visits, extremely restless, fidgeting at the dinner table, pacing around the salon in the evening, wild with anticipation, color glowing brightly in his cheeks. Jor-El dreaded these talaureme sessions a little more each time. Entertaining the Earthman always proved tedious, struggling to make dinner conversation, wasting time in small talk over tea and cakes in the salon. Kal would inevitably fill in the awkward silences with some new praise of the Earthman, Lex this and Lex that and Lex the other thing, all the more annoying for Jor-El. He would find himself wishing the time away until the moment when the Earthman held out his hand to Kal. Then he dearly wished he could think of something else to say, anything to delay the inevitable.

Jor-El had fully intended to put strict limits on Kal’s time with the Earthman, but this soon proved to be losing battle.

Less than a month into the talaureme, Kal came to him with a new request, “Father, Lex is ready to begin running simulations of his new engine design. He invited me to come to his lab and help him. It would just be a few afternoons a week, and I’d learn so much. Please, can I?” He turned big, hopeful eyes on Jor-El.

Jor-El should have known he had not heard the last of this folly about breaking the speed barrier. “You already devote enough of your time to the Earthman, and you have your studies to consider. It wouldn’t be—”

“I think it’s nice that Lex Luthor is willing to share his work with Kal,” Lara interjected, rather pointedly. She’d always wanted Jor-El to be more generous this way. “A saleelam is supposed to be a mentor, to help the young person prepare for life. I don’t see why that shouldn’t include intellectual pursuits.”

She and Kal both looked to Jor-El, waiting for his answer, and he could feel his will crumble beneath their combined expectations.

“Very well,” he said with a sigh. “But your schoolwork must come first. If I see that you’re neglecting your lessons, there will be no more visits to the Earthman’s lab. Is that clear?”

“Yes, father. Thank you!” Kal bobbed up from his seat and ran off to the communications console to relay the news to the Earthman.

Of course, it was not long before a few days a week had turned into every afternoon. Kal’s friends nearly pestered Jor-El to death with their communications, wondering where Kal was. When Jor-El passed along their messages, Kal would simply say, “Oh, I can talk to them at school.”

At last, it seemed wise to see for himself how Kal spent these afternoons in the Earthman’s lab, and he took the first excuse of business to pay a visit. The door to the workspace had been left open, so Jor-El let himself in rather than ringing the bell. There was no one in the Earthman’s office, but Jor-El could hear voices coming from an interior room that he presumed must be the lab itself. He paused in the doorway a moment to observe them.

Kal and the Earthman were at the console, running simulations. They sat very close together, the Earthman’s hand resting familiarly on Kal’s back, their voices low and intimate as they worked.

Jor-El cleared his throat. “I hope I am not interrupting.”

The Earthman rose to his feet and bowed. “It is an honor to receive you.”

“Father!” Kal said, looking pleased. “Did you come to the see the simulations? It’s going really well. From everything we’ve run so far, it looks like Lex’s engine really will break the speed barrier.”

“Congratulations,” Jor-El told the Earthman.

“Kal is very optimistic, of course. But if my luck holds, I may be able to start field testing it soon.” The Earthman smiled faintly. “You’ll have to forgive me. If we were scheduled to discuss business, it must have slipped my mind.”

Jor-El felt the heat flare in his cheeks. The Earthman knew perfectly well that they had no appointment. In all the years they’d done business together, Jor-El had never once set foot in this lab. He had the advantage of superior standing in society and only met with the Earthman at his convenience.

He forced a polite response nonetheless, “I was hoping you could refresh my memory on the background of the Cathenian deal before I sign the contracts.”

The Earthman paused just long enough for it to be felt. “Of course. We can talk in my office.”

Jor-El had the unpleasant feeling of having been seen through, as the Earthman had of course intended, and it made his disdain for the alien all the more pointed. A Kryptonian would never have acted so boorishly.

The Earthman laid a hand on Kal’s shoulder. “Can you take over the simulations for me while I go speak with your father?”

“Of course.” Kal smiled up at him, a smile so filled with adoration that Jor-El wished he had never seen it. For his own peace of mind, he needed to believe that this was simply admiration for the Earthman’s technological breakthrough.

The Earthman returned Kal’s smile, a soft, warm look in his eyes. “Thank you.”

Jor-El chose not to analyze that at all.

They went into the office, and then the Earthman’s expression regained its usual sarcasm. “Now about that Cathenian contract…” He proceeded to outline every article and sub-clause in the most excruciating detail.

It occurred to Jor-El then that he no longer objected to the Earthman simply as an alien. He truly despised him as a man.

* * *

Jor-El harbored a secret hope that the Earthman’s engine design would fail miserably—not simply out of spite, but as a matter of self-preservation. If Kal didn’t start talking about something else soon, Jor-El feared for his own sanity. But it was not to be. The Earthman’s arrogant claims were borne out by the results of the test flights.

Kal came home with the news. “You won’t believe what’s happened, father. The Interstellar Transportation Commission has invited Lex to speak at the annual symposium. Isn’t that amazing?”

“Indeed. Amazing,” Jor-El said dryly.

The commission did not readily embrace the work of alien scientists. The Earthman had a true knack for insinuating himself where he wasn’t wanted.

“Father,” Kal began tentatively, and Jor-El knew what was coming. “You’re an honorary member of the ITC, aren’t you? Can we go hear Lex’s talk?”

The symposium was not open to the public, and the only way Kal could gain admittance was to be the guest of a member.

“When is it?” Jor-El asked.

“Two weeks,” Kal said hopefully.

“Isn’t that the same night as the biochemistry fair at school?”

Kal gave him a pleading look. “I’ve been to that a million times before. How often am I going to get the chance to hear about the first real breakthrough in interstellar engine design in two hundred years?”

“I would have thought you’d have every detail memorized by now,” he said. “You certainly spend enough time at the Earthman’s lab.”

“Please?”

Kal drew in a big, expectant breath and held it, and Jor-El was agreeing before he could stop himself.

Kal clapped his hands together. “Thank you, father!”

Lara tried to hide a smile as Kal went off to his room. Jor-El could only shake his head. He was getting soft in his old age.

Over the next two weeks, Kal was so filled with anticipation, so talkative on the subject, that Jor-El was actually relieved when the night of the symposium came at last. It was the most important scholarly event of the year for the members of the Interstellar Transportation Commission, and there was not an empty seat left in the auditorium. Jor-El consulted the program. The Earthman was last on the list to speak. Kal kept craning his neck, trying to catch a glimpse of him.

“You begged me to bring you here tonight,” Jor-El had to remind him more than once. “You will give all the speakers the courtesy of your attention.”

Kal hung his head, chastened for a few seconds, before going right back to searching the crowd for the Earthman.

When it was the Earthman’s turn at last, a skeptical curiosity passed through the room. There was more than one among them, Jor-El knew, hoping to see the alien forced from the stage in disgrace.

The Earthman took his place at the lectern. “As an offworlder, I am more honored than I can say to be speaking before such an eminent group of scientists.” He smiled. “Distinguished members of the Interstellar Transportation Commission, I am here tonight to introduce you to the future of space travel.”

There was a slight gasp from the audience at such boldness. Jor-El shook his head. Aliens knew nothing about subtlety.

The Earthman continued his talk. He first explained the theoretical work that underpinned the design, then took them through a schematic of the engine, and ended by showing a recording of the test flights.

“As you can see,” he said with a flourish, “the speed barrier has officially been broken.”

A resonating silence fell over the room, followed a moment later by the first tentative applause, gaining in strength until it was a resounding ovation. Jor-El cast a look at Kal out of the corner of his eye. He was practically glowing with pleasure at the Earthman’s triumph.

“Thank you,” the Earthman said in answer to the applause. “Now, are there any questions?”

“I have one,” a voice called out. “There’s no doubt that this is an impressive feat of engineering, but I wonder at the practical applications. How useful will it really be?”

“Yes,” another member of the Commission chimed in. “Your test flights, you mentioned, were unmanned. Presumably that was because of the increased risk of interstellar decompression. Given this problem, how will this breakthrough really change interstellar travel?”

“An excellent question,” the Earthman responded. “I don’t deny that interstellar decompression is an issue, but it’s certainly not one that can’t be solved. Advances in containment technology always follow advances in engine design. I personally plan to make this my next area of focus, and I’m sure that others will, as well.”

“And in the meantime?” someone else asked.

“The new engine will have immediate benefits for unmanned space travel. Krypton deploys drone ships to send back data from unexplored parts of the galaxy. Now those ships will be able to travel much farther. And when containment field technology does finally catch up, your scientists will be able to see those distant planets firsthand.”

Excited murmuring broke out at the prospect.

The moderator asked, “Are there any more questions?” When no one spoke up, he said, “That concludes our presentations for the evening. The panel will take some time to confer, and then the Cosmos Prize for the most promising research will be awarded.”

“Father, wouldn’t it be wonderful if Lex won?” Kal whispered.

Jor-El merely smiled, knowing that the chances of an alien being awarded the Commission’s highest honor was roughly equal to the likelihood that he would someday take a liking to the Earthman.

So it was difficult to keep his mouth from falling open when not fifteen minutes later the announcement was made, and the Earthman ascended the stage to accept the crystal globe, the winner of the Cosmos Prize.

“I had some invaluable help on this project,” he said, naming a long list of people, “and last but not least, Kal of the house of El, who spent many hours in the lab, double-checking equations, running simulations, and supplying much-needed optimism.” He raised the statue in tribute. “Thank you.”

Kal blushed fiercely, but his eyes stayed fastened on the Earthman, as if he did not even know how to look away. Heads turned in their direction, and Jor-El stared straight ahead as if he didn’t notice.

Afterwards, Kal insisted on going to congratulate the Earthman, as of course Jor-El had expected. He wearily allowed himself to be dragged along.

“I’m so happy for you,” Kal told the Earthman.

The Earthman smiled. “I meant what I said, you know. I really couldn’t have done this without you.”

Kal’s expression was very pleased, maybe too much so, and Jor-El glanced around, hoping that no one else had noticed it.

He nodded to the Earthman. “Congratulations on your achievement.”

The Earthman bowed. “I am honored.”

“Well,” Jor-El said, “It is getting late. Time we were going, Kal-El.”

Kal looked crestfallen to be made to leave so quickly, but Jor-El pretended not to see it.

“Goodbye,” Kal said reluctantly.

The Earthman gave him an easy smile. “I’ll see you soon.”

They shared a glance that was not entirely appropriate in a public place. Jor-El commandeered Kal’s arm and led him away. All the way home, he kept insisting to himself that it was only the natural pride in his saleelam’s accomplishments that had put such a look on Kal’s face. And yet, no matter how hard he tried, he could not feel easy on the subject.

* * *

The deep days of winter had come to an end at last, Inaure breathing her life into the land again, a light touch of green in the park now. Jor-El walked slowly along the flagstones, enjoying the first hint of warmth in the air. He could hear Azalian thrushes in the treetops, their lilting song that he had missed during the dark months.

He had just come from the Geophysics Institute. Nearly three years of the talaureme he had to endure, and these days Jor-El did his best to find an excuse to be out of the house when the Earthman made his visits. Today he had invented an urgent project at the Institute that would keep him there all day. Hours had passed since then, and he assumed that it was safe to go home at last.

As he walked along, his thoughts were preoccupied with Kal, and not simply because of the Earthman. It was almost eighteen cycles ago that Kal had first been put into his arms, and soon enough it would be time to let him go. There had been many prospective suitors who had quietly expressed an interest, but as of yet, Jor-El had not done anything about it. He knew that other children Kal’s age, other sons and daughters of prominent houses, already had their futures laid out for them by now, some since the beginning of their seventeenth year. But Jor-El could not be in any hurry for Kal to leave him. Every time he began to consider the question of a husband or wife for his son, he concluded that it would be best to think about that some other day.

He arrived home and caught the sound of voices coming from the salon, Kal’s and the Earthman’s. He took up a spot outside the door where he could see into the room without being noticed. They were sitting on the sofa, Kal curled up against the Earthman, the Earthman’s arm around his shoulders. Clearly, they had not expected anyone to come home. Jor-El had said he would be gone all day, and it was Lara’s afternoon to work at the Botanical Society. Jor-El felt the indignity of lurking unseen, but convinced himself that necessity excused it.

“But why do you have to go to Xarapa?” Kal asked, a little sullenly. “And for so long?”

“Because Xarapa desperately needs computer parts, and they’re willing to pay well for them. And, as you know, it’s on the other side of the sector. So it takes a good three days each way to get there.”

Kal made the pouting face that Jor-El always told him was undignified. “Will you go off and leave me like this when I’m your husband?”

The words jolted Jor-El to his very heart. Too late, he could see how foolish he’d been to talk himself out of his concerns about this relationship.

The Earthman smiled and laced his fingers through Kal’s. “When I’m your husband, I will take you with me on my trips. Or when I can’t do that, I’ll see to it that our reunions more than make up for any time we have to spend apart.” He leaned close, lingered over a kiss.

Now Kal was smiling as well. “Will you take me to the Chaumu Falls like you promised?”

He gave Kal a fond look, tucked a lock of his hair behind his ear. “When I’m your husband, I will do anything that makes you happy.” He kissed Kal again. “And since a week really is a long time, I have a little something for you so you’ll think of me.” He pulled out a small parcel from his pocket.

“You know I’d think of you anyway!” Kal insisted, although he looked rather pleased at the prospect of a present.

“Open it,” the Earthman urged.

Kal did and held up a necklace to admire, some alien symbol that Jor-El didn’t recognize, strung on a black silk cord.

“It’s beautiful.” Kal traced the design with his finger.

“The symbol for yin and yang. In one of Earth’s religions, it symbolizes two very different things that together make a whole.” He took the necklace from Kal and placed it over his neck.

“Thank you,” Kal whispered, and kissed him.

Jor-El had seen enough, and he quietly retreated, went out, came back in more noisily. This time the Earthman was on his feet when Jor-El came into the salon. He quickly took his leave, but Jor-El did not miss the parting glance he gave Kal, filled with promises.

After that, Jor-El began to pay much more careful attention. He was startled to notice that Kal hardly ever talked about the Earthman anymore, even went out of his way to avoid mentioning him. When had that happened? Why had it never registered? Jor-El must have simply chalked it up to a natural lessening of interest. Too late he recognized how much more dangerous this silence was than any of Kal’s extravagant praise.

In fact, Kal’s entire demeanor had changed, less moon-eyed, more quietly determined. Worry began to eat at Jor-El, and he took the opportunity one day when Kal was at school to look through his room. He’d never violated his son’s private space before, never lowered himself that way, never had a reason to. A voice in his head insisted that he was wrong to begin now, but he ignored it. He simply had to know.

There were a number of things on the shelves he didn’t recognize, things the Earthman must have given Kal, an antique printed book in human language, a glittering piece of larkstar from some trip to the Aurian system, a holographic model of the new engine, and most tellingly, the crystal globe, the award from the Interstellar Transportation Commission.

He noticed something else as well, a datapad sitting on the desk, half concealed by Kal’s usual disorder. Jor-El took it up and had only a moment’s compunction before pressing the button to open the last document. It was an unfinished letter to the Earthman that Kal no doubt intended to transmit to his ship. It started off innocuously enough, the happenings of Kal’s day, what he’d done in school, things his friends had said, but then it grew more personal. _You have no idea how much I miss you. At night, I touch myself and imagine it’s you. But that only makes me miss you more. Makes me think of all the things I want to do the next time I see you_ —” There were details, and Jor-El stopped reading, his face hot. He returned the datapad where he’d found it.

He went to his study to think, to figure out a course of action. Clearly, he’d been wrong to put off his responsibilities to Kal so long. A boy his age was apt to get caught up in romantic notions, to be carried away by physical attraction. If Jor-El had kept him busy with prospective suitors instead of allowing him to spend so much time with the Earthman, things might never have progressed this far. No, Kal was not to blame for any of this, but the Earthman, that was another matter entirely. Jor-El had no doubt about his real motives in trying to seduce his son, a marriage that would vastly elevate his standing in Kryptonian society, bring significant material advantages. Jor-El would see to it that this never happened.

He busied himself the next few days making arrangements, and called Kal into his study to prepare him.

“It is time to find a suitable match for you, my son. There have been several excellent prospects who have spoken with me on the subject. Your first suitor is engaged to come in two days time. I have let your mother know. She will help you with your wardrobe.”

Kal did not look pleased, but he didn’t argue, at least.

On the appointed evening, Mal-Nor arrived precisely at eight. Jor-El greeted him at the door and ushered him into the salon. Kal was already waiting there, his back straight, shoulders stiff, expression blank. Jor-El performed the introductions. Kal nodded in acknowledgement, but kept his eyes lowered.

“Very modest, very modest, indeed,” Mal-Nor said. “A pleasure to see such a virtue in a young person today.”

Jor-El asked him to sit down and invited him to help himself to tea and cakes. Mal-Nor eagerly obliged himself of their hospitality.

“Delicious, just delicious,” he said, around a mouthful of Lara’s berry tart.

Jor-El was not particularly well acquainted with Mal-Nor. He knew of his family, of course. They had been prominent members of the local government for generations. Mal-Nor was himself the chairman of the town’s planning commission. He was perhaps five, maybe ten years younger than Jor-El, rather short of stature, comfortably settled into middle age.

“You must be very busy with the planning commission these days,” Jor-El inquired politely. “I see so many new projects around town.”

“Indeed. We seem to receive new proposals almost every day for something or other.”

“It must be very rewarding to have such a personal role in supporting progress.”

Mal-Nor scoffed, “Progress does not always bring rewards. In fact, why can’t things just stay as they are? That’s what I often ask my colleauges. Tradition. Now that’s a value I support.”

“Yes, indeed,” Jor-El said. “Tradition must be respected.”

Mal-Nor nodded. “I see your son has the proper respect. Not speaking unless spoken to. Many could learn from his example.”

Kal stared at the carpet with even greater determination.

“What are your son’s intellectual pursuits?” Mal-Nor asked.

“He has a strong inclination toward the sciences,” Jor-El told him. “It is my hope that he will come and join me at the Geophysics Institute when he has finished school.”

“Noble work. I wouldn’t mind a husband engaged in such a pursuit, although not for the first several years of our marriage. He would need to have fully learned his duties as my spouse before engaging his time elsewhere.”

“Indeed,” Jor-El said non-commitally.

Mal-Nor did not seem to notice the lack of enthusiasm. “Does your son have particular amusements he’s fond of?”

Jor-El answered, but he was really beginning to find it confounding that Mal-Nor would not simply ask Kal these questions. It was a very old-fashioned notion of courtship, rather tedious. Perhaps Lara’s family had rubbed off on him more than he’d realized. When he’d gone to court her, he’d expected the usual formalities, the family awaiting his arrival in the salon, Lara seated demurely at her father’s side. But the Vons seemed almost to have forgotten he was coming. “Oh, of course, Jor-El,” Lara’s father Lor-Von had said, offering the customary bow almost as an afterthought. “She’s out in the garden, I believe. Through there.” He had pointed the way and gone back to his reading, as if the matter were entirely up to them.

“I feel I should give some details about what I’m seeking in a spouse. I hope you won’t mind if I speak candidly?” Mal-Nor said.

Jor-El shook his head. “Candor is invaluable in such matters.”

“I am pleased we see eye to eye on it,” Mal-Nor said. “No doubt as you have already gleaned, I am a man looking to make a traditional second match. Nowadays, young people have such independent ideas that it’s made my quest rather difficult. What I require in a spouse is a seemly deference in all matters of opinion, a quiet, modest comportment of person, and of course,” his gaze fell on Kal, sliding from his face to his body, lingering there, “an attractive submissiveness in our personal relations.”

Kal’s cheeks went bright pink.

Jor-El’s voice turned to ice, “It is very good of you to make yourself so clear. We appreciate your calling on us.” He rose and made a bow. “It is an honor, indeed. May I show you out?”

Mal-Nor looked rather startled. “Oh…of course.” He hurried to his feet and returned the bow. “It wouldn’t be seemly to overstay my first visit, would it?” He smiled, as if sharing a good joke with Jor-El.

Jor-El turned curtly and led him out. Mal-Nor looked as if he might launch into some long parting speech, so Jor-El said a quick goodnight, shut the door emphatically when Mal-Nor was gone.

He rejoined his son and tried to apologize, “Kal, please know that—”

“I’m tired, father,” Kal said, getting up from his chair. “I’d like to go to my room now.”

“Very well,” Jor-El said wearily.

Kal trudge off unhappily, and Jor-El went to pour himself a glass of Lystrian brandy. A simple cup of tea was not enough to soothe him after such a conversation. He retreated to the gallery to look out at the stars. He had every confidence that he would find a prudent match for Kal, an upstanding Kryptonian who would secure his position in society.

It just would not be Mal-Nor. Or anyone like him.

* * *

Jor-El suspected that the advent of suitors might prompt the Earthman into action, and he was not disappointed in this expectation.

The day the Earthman came to make his proposals Kal was conspicuously absent. “I’m a little behind in biochemistry,” he gave as an excuse, although biochemistry was one of his best subjects. “I’ll be at the library at school.” Jor-El was not surprised in the least when the Earthman materialized at the door less than an hour later.

“I have an important matter I’d like to discuss with you,” he said, and Jor-El invited him into his study.

They took seats on opposite sides of the desk, like the adversaries they were. Lara brought tea, gave the Earthman an encouraging smile that Jor-El did his best to ignore, and then they got down to the matter at hand.

“I don’t suppose the purpose of my visit will come as any surprise to you,” the Earthman began. “You are a man of perception. I’m sure my attachment to your son, and his to me, has not escaped your notice.”

Jor-El inclined his head in acknowledgment, but did not interrupt. He would hear the Earthman out, pay him this courtesy at least, out of respect for Kal.

“Though there are some obstacles to the match, I realize,” the Earthman continued on, “there are just as many things to recommend it. I have a longstanding business relationship with your house. Our joint ventures have been to our mutual advantage, and strengthening our ties would yield even greater benefits. Whatever I may lack in status in Kryptonian society, I make up in resources and my very real desire to see Kal happy.”

Jor-El took a moment before he responded. Silence was a useful ally in conversations such as this. “The lack of status is a serious impediment, indeed,” he replied at last. “My son’s happiness is paramount in my mind, Lex Luthor. I am not convinced it would be achieved through a marriage, forgive me for saying so, that is so far beneath his prospects.”

The Earthman’s face revealed nothing. “Does this mean there are no circumstances under which you would agree to our marrying?”

Jor-El frowned, as if considering the matter, although his words had been carefully planned in advance. “There is one way,” he admitted, as if reluctant to mention the possibility. “You know of the Rite of Segeeth?”

The story was ridiculous nonsense in Jor-El’s opinion, but that did not mean he wasn’t willing to use it as a convenient way of ridding himself of an undesirable son-in-law.

When the Earthman did not answer at once, Jor-El said, “Or perhaps this is one of our customs you are not familiar with?”

“I’ve heard the legend,” the Earthman said at last. “I just didn’t realize the ritual was still practiced. It’s rather archaic, isn’t it?”

“I believe you have a special appreciation, do you not, for our very ancient rituals?”

The Earthman gave him a long, assessing look. “This is the only way you will give Kal your blessing to marry me?”

“Yes.”

His lips curved into a faintly bitter smile. “Then I suppose I have no choice but to accept the challenge, do I?”

Jor-El made no answer to that. “Let us meet in a week’s time at the temple. I’ll name the terms then.”

The Earthman rose, bowed. “Until next week.” Before leaving, though, he added, “Some moths have a talent for flying near the flame without immolating themselves, you know.”

Jor-El smiled. “We shall see.

Kal came home not long afterwards, and it was clear from the slamming door that he’d already heard the news, his eyes bright with accusation over dinner. Jor-El ignored him. Kal could not see the very real danger he was in, but that did not matter. It was enough that Jor-El saw it, knew too well, how an infatuation could lead to a disastrous marriage, how society’s censure could ruin an otherwise promising life.

When his own father had announced his choice of Sela-Jan to be his wife, Jor-El had rebelled against him for the first time in his life, refusing to marry a haughty old woman. Of course, Sela-Jan was younger then than he himself was now, but to a boy of eighteen, a woman of forty-five was practically ancient. The thought of lying with her, having to obey her in everything was simply more than he could endure.

“Is this the true wish of your heart?” his father had asked him. “To be free to marry elsewhere, even if it displeases me?”

“It is,” Jor-El told him, with as much courage as he could find.

“Very well, then,” his father answered. “You shall have your wish.”

Jor-El should have known better than to believe in any true mercy from his father, even if the old man had been as good as his word. Jor-El was left free to choose another match, but his father disowned him, stripped him of the family name, forced him from home.

“When you have given up this unseemly display of independence, remembered your place and the obedience you owe this house, then and only then will you be welcome here again.”

Jor-El had never before realized how his connections opened doors for him until that power was gone. He lost his place at school. The job he’d been promised at the Geophysics Institute was revoked. He could find no work anywhere on Krypton and ended up going off world, taking a lowly position as a technician on a mining colony. It had not been long before he’d returned to his father, contrite, disgraced. The marriage to Sela-Jan had gone ahead as arranged, Jor-El’s position in society secure once more. No one gave the least indication of remembering his exile once it was over—that was the Kryptonian way—but Jor-El would never forget it, that time when he was nothing and no one.

He would do whatever was necessary to prevent his son from bringing that same fate on himself. He would not allow the Earthman’s unscrupulous conniving to trap Kal in a marriage that would be universally despised. One day, Kal would understand and ultimately thank him, even if today was not that day.

* * *

The challenge was issued at the temple, as befitted the solemnity of the occasion, but the party was kept small, just Jor-El, Lara, Kal, the Earthman, and the priest. No one had undergone the Rite of Segeeth in recent memory, and inviting others to witness it would surely have meant inviting much gawking and whispering. The priest himself had scarcely maintained his composure when Jor-El had first broached the subject with him.

Once they were all assembled, the priest said, “Let me first make certain we all understand why we have come together. Lex Luthor, is it true that you have agreed to undergo the Rite of Segeeth and that you are fully aware what such an undertaking entails?”

The Earthman bowed his head. “Indeed, your Reverence. I am well versed in the ritual, and I willingly agree to any and all challenges put before me.”

The priest let out a little sigh. “Very well, then.” He nodded to Jor-El. “You may proceed.”

“Lex Luthor,” Jor-El announced, “for your first task you must pass the comprehensive exams that all young Kryptonians take, with a score in the eightieth percentile or better.”

Kal broke into a soft smile. It appeared that he had no doubt his Earthman could manage this.

The Earthman replied as custom demanded, “And when I have accomplished that, what shall I do next?”

“For your second task, you must attend the spring festival at the Palace of the Matriarch, dance the skalu, and meet with approval from your hostess.”

“But Father!” Kal interrupted. “Last year, there were professional dancers from the capital, and even then the Matriarch complained the skalu wasn’t done right. Not even native-born Kryptonians can remember all the steps it’s so complicated. And besides, the Matriarch is a—”

“Kal-El!” Lara rebuked him. Even a member of the bohemian house of Von did not dare criticize the Matriarch in public.

“Well, she is,” Kal muttered unhappily.

Jor-El smiled complacently. “If your Earthman is truly determined to win you, I am certain he will figure it out.”

The Earthman bowed. “And when I have accomplished that, what shall I do next?”

“Finally, if you are to be Kal-El’s husband, you must take your ship with its new engine along the Rondian corridor and back, and achieve a speed of twelve times the speed of light, without using the ship’s auto-piloting systems.”

Kal objected again, “But no one has ever been able to withstand such speed.”

“Indeed? Your Earthman made an entire presentation to the Interstellar Transportation Commission that this is the future of space travel.”

“You know he said that more research needed to be done on containment systems before it would be safe—”

“It’s all right, Kal,” the Earthman said, coolly confident. “I accept your father’s challenge, just as he’s issued it.” He smiled, showing his teeth. “And when I have accomplished all three tasks, I will return and claim my prize.”

Jor-El smiled, not certain when he’d enjoyed a ceremony more. “ _If_ you succeed, of course.”

The Earthman bowed, his expression touched with irony. “Of course.”

* * *

Jor-El had expected the Earthman to pass the first challenge. He had chosen it, in fact, as a show of good faith to Kal. That way when the Earthman failed later on Jor-El would be immune from criticisms that he had not given the alien a fair chance.

The day-long exam was administered at the Ministry for Education. The next afternoon, a representative from the agency, a man called Tav-Lor, came to the house with the results. Kal met him eagerly at the door.

“Please, please come in,” Jor-El heard his excited voice. “Everyone is waiting in the salon.”

Tav-Lor bowed to Jor-El as he came into the room. “It is an honor to be received by the house of El.”

Jor-El nodded. “Won’t you sit down?”

“What about Lex’s exam results?” Kal asked, getting right to the point.

“You forget your manners, my son,” Jor-El chided him. “We have not yet asked our guest if he would care for some tea.”

Tav-Lor smiled, taking pity on Kal. “Thank you, indeed. That is most kind, but I cannot stay long.” He produced a datapad and handed it to Jor-El. “Here are the official results for the exam taken by the Earthman Lex Luthor at our offices yesterday.”

Jor studied it and frowned. “Can this be right? Perhaps the score has been miscalculated?”

Kal edged closer. “What does it say, father?”

“There is no mistake,” Tav-Lor answered, almost apologetically.

Jor-El’s displeasure was too evident, and he carefully composed himself. “We thank you for taking time to bring us this information. Are you certain we can’t offer you tea? Or perhaps something to eat?”

Tav-Lor shook his head. “Thank you, no. I must be getting back to the office.” He bowed. “It has been an honor to serve the house of El.”

Lara showed him out, and Kal’s eyes fastened on Jor-El beseechingly.

He let out his breath in a heavy sigh. “Your Earthman has passed the first challenge.”

Kal-El bounded to his feet. “Yes! I knew he would.” And then he paused in his celebration. “What was his score, father? Why did you think it might be a mistake?”

Jor-El grudgingly held out the datapad. He couldn’t bring himself to say it aloud.

Kal’s eyes went wide. “This is—I’ve never heard of anyone getting such a high score.” He punched a button for another screen, and then his mouth fell open. “He scored in the top one percent. I have to go tell him!”

He handed back the datapad and rushed off to the communications console. Jor-El did his best to swallow back the bitterness. It was one thing for the Earthman to have passed the challenge, another for him to have _excelled_ at it. Jor-El repressed the urge to fling the datapad at the wall. At least he had the prospect of seeing the Earthman trying to dance the skalu to console him. On occasion, the Matriarch had been known to strike particularly unsatisfactory performers over the head with her cane. Picturing that put Jor-El in a far more jovial mood, one that lasted the rest of the evening.

* * *

Spring was at its pinnacle at last, and out in the garden the partoosh bushes were in bloom, a spray of orange-red flowers like flames. A pair of Azalian thrushes had built a nest in one of the taller Okala trees, and Jor-El would spot them coming and going, bringing food to their younglings, little chirrups of concern as they tended to them.

Inside, Jor-El’s own progeny was busily driving him mad. The day of the spring festival, and Kal had been distracted since he’d woken up that morning, increasingly restless as the day went on. He’d insisted on getting dressed hours before it was time to leave, peppering Jor-El with nonstop questions about which color robe he should wear, and if Jor-El thought the embroidered belt was more becoming than the silk one or was it too gauche. In theory, one was supposed to dress very plainly for the spring festival, fashion taking a back seat to the glories of nature. Nowadays, though, most people treated it the way they did any other social occasion, as an excuse to show off their finery.

Once Kal was dressed, he was no calmer, as Jor-El had vainly hoped. He paced the salon, pulling fitfully at the sleeves of his robe, making sure that Jor-El had no peace whatsoever, prattling on and on about how difficult the skalu was to dance, but how quick a study the Earthman was, asking Jor-El again and again what he thought the chances were that the Matriarch might respond favorably.

“You will see for yourself in a few hours time,” Jor-El reminded him, but this did nothing to stem the tide of Kal’s questions.

“Why can’t I go help Lex get ready?” Kal asked for what had to be the hundredth time.

“Because it would not be appropriate,” Jor-El repeated himself yet again. “Besides,” he added with some bitterness, “the Earthman has your mother assisting him.”

No offworlder was permitted to attend the spring festival unless sponsored by a Kryptonian family. Given the adversarial nature of the Rite of Segeeth, it was out of the question that the Earthman should attend under the auspices of the house of El. Jor-El had even hoped, that this obstacle alone would derail the Earthman’s quest. After all, how many Kryptonian families were there who’d tote along an alien to the most important social gathering of the year? The irony was not lost on Jor-El that he had his own wife to thank for paving the way. Lara had spoken with her father, who had been delighted to assist such a novel cause. He had invited the Earthman to go to the festival as an honored guest of the house of Von.

Kal sat down next to Jor-El, then stood up again, wandered over to the windows, toyed anxiously with the curtains as he looked out. After a few minutes, he came back to the sofa and sat down once more, jiggling his leg as if he lacked all capacity to stay still. “Will we leave soon, father?”

Jor-El let out his breath. “Let us go now, Kal-El, before you explode from eagerness. I would not like to lose a son in such an unnecessary fashion.”

Kal scrambled to his feet and rushed to the door, not the least bit mindful of his father’s exasperation.

The spring festival was held every year at the Palace of the Matriarch, the elder woman who was the keeper of customs, the spiritual center of Kryptonian culture. Jor-El was pleased, at least, to see Kal pass through the palace gates this year without open-mouthed gawking. Only those who had come of age were allowed to join in the festival, or even permitted admittance to the Matriarch’s residence. The first two years Kal had attended he’d been rather too dazzled.

Of course the Palace of the Matriarch was one of the grander places on Krypton, with alabaster pillars that soared ten stories upward, vaulted corridors as long as four city blocks, elaborate arcaded loggias, an enormous salon that opened onto the gardens, a glass dome over top it that made it seem as if the sky itself were the only ceiling. This was where the festival took place.

Jor-El ushered Kal into the salon. It was early yet, the crowds still gathering, but already women in taffeta swept across the room and the air was filled with the discordant hum of traditional Kryptonian music, the scent of mimosa and oleander from the garden overlaid by a cacophony of perfume.

They circulated, Jor-El introducing Kal to business associates and colleagues he had not met before. More people arrived by the minute, and soon the room was filled with the dull roar of conversation.

At last, the Matriarch’s page stepped into the room and sounded the horn. A hush ran through the crowd, and Jor-El took Kal by the arm, leading him to their place in the receiving line. When everyone was settled, the musicians launched into the Hymn of the Matriarch, the double doors opened from the inner chamber, and the Matriarch emerged, a train of attendants following in her wake. The group processed the length of the salon, to the canuba, the ceremonial chair used only on the occasion of the spring festival, magnificently carved from alabaster, with legs like the roots of an acampsia bush, arms like the wings of a loota bird, symbolizing the bounty of spring. The Matriarch took her seat there.

Everyone fell into line to take a turn bowing before her, offering a poetic tribute to the season.

When it was Kal-El’s turn, she jabbed her cane at his foot, which was not turned to the precise forty-five degree angle the etiquette books proscribed. Kal-El was so alarmed he stuttered through his couplet.

“Slovenly,” she scowled at him, “just like your father.”

Jor-El held back a sigh as he offered his own greetings; he’d never been a favorite with the Matriarch.

“Spring’s Sun rises in the starlit night, and there She ascends in glorious symphony.”

He had hoped to flatter her, but she just pressed her mouth into an even thinner, more displeased line and turned her attention to the next supplicant.

Once they were safely out of earshot, Kal complained, “This isn’t fair. How is Lex supposed to pass this test when the Matriarch doesn’t even approve of you, father?”

Jor-El was saved a reply by the arrival of Lara, her father Lor-Von, and the Earthman. Lara and her father were dressed elegantly for the occasion, but the Earthman wore a plain robe, wool instead of silk, all white, more in keeping with the original impulse of the festival. Amidst a sea of ornament and excess, he was rather striking in his simplicity, and people turned to stare. Lor-Von and Lara took their turn offering greetings to the Matriarch, and then the Earthman did.

“Whilst hot life whispers breathlessly to the heavens, day reclines in dismay. A star shoots westwards, an irreverent twinkle in the night sky,” he said as he bowed very low, his back straight, feet sharply turned.

The quotation was from a cycle of erotic poetry from the Darval Epoch, rather obscure. The Matriarch, of course, recognized it. “Allah-Tuk,” she said, giving the Earthman a closer look. “I haven’t heard her quoted in quite some time.” She looked to Lor-Von. “Who is this?”

He replied, “The Earthman Lex Luthor, a friend of the house of Von.”

“Is it you who have tutored him in our ways?” the Matriarch asked.

Lor-Von bowed again. “I wish I could claim credit, your Grace, but Lex Luthor has made his own study of our language and culture.”

“He does seem to have learned a thing or two,” the Matriarch said. “That’s more than I can say for some of these young people today.”

“If it please your Grace,” Lor-Von said, “the Earthman Lex Luthor humbly asks that he might be allowed to dance the skalu, as a gesture of respect from his people to ours.”

The Matriarch was not quite quick enough to cover her surprise. “Does he understand the gravity of such a request?” she asked in a stern voice, although it was clear she was rather intrigued.

Lor-Von inclined his head. “Indeed, your Grace.”

The Matriarch addressed the Earthman, an honor in itself for an offworlder, “I would not expect such a performance to amount to much. But—” she waved her hand, “it is difficult to imagine a bigger disgrace than those so-called professional dancers from last year. We shall endure your alien shuffling.”

A buzz ran through the assembly at this odd development. Jor-El himself could scarcely believe he’d heard her correctly. He had truly imagined that Krypton would fall to dust before the Matriarch allowed an offworlder to perform the skalu.

Servants carried in tables of food, urns of wine, and the partygoers congregated around them, eating and enjoying the opportunity for conversation before the performances began. Across the room, Jor-El spotted the Earthman and Lor-Von conversing with great animation. Lara’s father was no doubt fascinated to make the acquaintance of an alien, to have the chance to quiz him about human customs.

Lor-Von had never been a conventional man. Jor-El had learned this from the beginning of their acquaintance. Most marriage negotiations were complex undertakings, with research and counter-proposals, contracts laden with provisos and sub-clauses. Lara’s father had broached the matter with a simple, “Have you thought when you would speak to our daughter? Now that she’s made her choice, we are naturally eager to have the matter settled.” At Jor-El’s look of astonishment, he’d added, “Oh, if you’re worried about all the tedious details, we can deal with that later. What matters most is that everyone’s happiness is secured.”

Indeed, Lara was very much her father’s daughter. Jor-El had learned this too over the years.

She came to join them, and Kal exclaimed happily, “Mother!”

She gathered Kal’s face in her hands and kissed his forehead. In such moments, their son still seemed a child, and Jor-El’s throat tightened unaccountably at the thought.

“Lex did very well, my son,” Lara told him. “The Matriarch was well pleased with him, or she would never have allowed him to dance the skalu.”

“Thank you for helping him, mother.”

She smiled. “I am pleased to have assisted in such a worthy cause.”

“Would it be all right if I went to join my friends?” Kal asked. “I saw Aya-Zah and Vol-Nor pass by just a few moments ago.”

“Of course,” Lara told him.

Jor-El shot him a pointed look.

“I know, father,” Kal said sullenly. “I’m not to have any contact with Lex.”

He walked off with a petulant slouch, but Jor-El kept an eye on him, and by the time he’d found his friends, his expression had brightened again. Ah, the tempests of youth. They made Jor-El feel older than his years.

“What thoughts give you such a curious expression, my husband?” Lara asked, her voice gently teasing, hand resting on his arm.

“I was wondering how long you had to coach the Earthman to enable him to charm his way past the Matriarch.”

“I merely advised him on his costume,” she said with a smile. “His charm is all his own.”

Jor-El harrumphed. “Well, we shall see how far it gets him when it’s time to dance the skalu.”

Even with intensive instruction from experts, which it appeared the Earthman had not received, it was inconceivable that any offworlder should master the most difficult of all the ceremonial dances. Kryptonians who had been tutored in the skalu all their lives struggled through it.

The musicians took their places again and began to play, time for the performances at last. The skalu was the culmination of the ceremony, but there were many other parts to it, songs, recitations, other dances, all celebrating the wonders of the season. After each, the performers came and bowed before the Matriarch, who passed judgment on their offering. “It’s a shame a vole has died in your throat,” she said to one young woman who did not, it was true, have the sweetest singing voice. “Have you had too much wine?” she asked the man who had recounted the story of Inaure’s daughter, Spring, who came down from heaven once a year to walk among mortals, leaving new life in her wake. And so it went. No one had received a blow from her cane yet, but the night was still young.

A genuine sense of interest began to build the closer they got to the skalu, and by the time the Earthman finally took the stage, the air seemed alive with anticipation. He stood with his back very straight, waiting for the song to begin. Most offworlders found Kryptonian music rather difficult to grasp. “Atonal,” they usually called it, although Jor-El understood perfectly well that they really meant “noise.” The erratic rhythms were just one of the challenges of the skalu. Many of the movements were quite ungainly to perform, symbolizing nature in all its rawness. The dancer’s task, not a simple one, was to find poetry in that awkwardness and create something beautiful out of it.

Which was, to Jor-El’s great astonishment, exactly what the Earthman was doing. His expression was sober, but there was no hint of effort in it. Every movement was fully realized, the staccato passages crisp and precise, the interpretive sections smooth and flowing. He even went through the tricky middle section which was often omitted.

His performance was so flawless, and it was such a novelty to begin with to see an alien dancing the skalu, that even the most cynical gave up the pleasures of the buffet table to crowd in front of the stage. The Earthman performed the final sequence and ended in a low bow. There was an audible intake of breath from the crowd as he climbed down and came to stand before the Matriarch, an even louder gasp when he did one last, brief coda, slide and pirouette, quite a daring thing right there by the Matriarch’s chair. It could easily be seen as arrogant rather than a gesture of respect.

For a long moment, the Matriarch sat as still and silent as a stone, and Jor-El was not the only one holding his breath.

At last, she made her pronouncement, “It appears it takes an offworlder to instruct us in the proper observation of our own customs. It is a sad testament, indeed, to the slovenly ways we’ve fallen into.” She paused and then added with a grudging nod to the Earthman, “Though a fine testament to your skill.”

There was a moment of quiet as everyone absorbed her words, and then conversation erupted at once like an explosion. The Earthman bowed again to the Matriarch, and Lor-Von ushered him away, amidst a profusion of compliments. Jor-El turned to Lara and glared.

She shook her head, denying the accusation in his eyes. “You know the last time I tried to dance the skalu for the Matriarch I got a rap across the hands with her cane.” She nodded her head in the direction of the Earthman, who was accepting congratulations from one of the city elders. “Your future son-in-law seems to have made quite an impression.”

Her eyes shone with amusement, making Jor-El scowl all the more fiercely.

His mood did not improve when Kal came running up, forgetting propriety entirely in his excitement.

“Did you see Lex, mother? Wasn’t he amazing?”

“A most worthy performance, indeed. Perhaps the best I have seen.”

Kal looked pleadingly to Jor-El. “You are satisfied that he met the challenge, aren’t you, father?”

Jor-El sighed heavily. “Yes. He has passed the test.” He could not bring himself to say the word “satisfied.”

Across the room, the Earthman stood with Lor-Von, holding court for his newfound admirers.

“Perhaps, my husband,” Lara gently suggested, “it would be all right if Kal spent some time in the company of his grandfather?”

Kal’s face twisted into the same expression he used to get as a little boy when he would beg for more mauzoo nut cookies.

“Remember where you are,” Jor-El admonished him, “and conduct yourself accordingly.”

“Yes, father. Thank you!”

He left in a whirl of flapping sleeves and thumping feet, rushing at once to his grandfather’s side. Lor-Von gave him an affectionate hug and said something that made Kal’s already brilliant smile grow even brighter. When Kal’s eyes met the Earthman’s, the force of desire between them was palpable even from all the way across the room, the effort of will it took to restrain themselves from touching all too obvious.

Jor-El looked away sharply. He had no doubt that the sentiment was genuine enough on Kal’s side, and equally convinced that it was merely a trick on the Earthman’s. He consoled himself that there was still one test to go, one last chance to put a stop to the Earthman’s designs on his son.

* * *

If Jor-El was not owed so many favors by people in positions of authority, it was unlikely that the third challenge would have been possible at all. Kryptonians were hardly fans of daredevil spectacles, and even with all the strings Jor-El was able to pull, the Supervisor of the starpad looked decidedly displeased to have such a stunt taking place on his watch.

In the landing bay, the Earthman’s crew was going through its final check of his ship. The Supervisor had a datapad in hand, ready to review the instructions one last time. Jor-El had given into Kal’s pleading and allowed him to come to the bay to watch the preparations and see the Earthman off. Lara and Lor-Von had insisted on attending as well, and the three of them looked pale and very serious as they waited for the test to begin.

The Earthman came down from the top of his ship where he’d been making his last calibrations to the containment system. He was dressed in boots and a flight suit, had a helmet tucked under his arm, feeble protection against the rigors of space.

“Everything looks good,” his first in command told him and then added with a dirty look in Jor-El’s direction, “You’re gonna nail this thing.”

The Earthman clapped him on the back. “Keep thinking like that.”

“Lex Luthor,” the Supervisor called to him, “if you are ready, we can go through the final instructions.”

He came to join the Supervisor. “Go ahead.”

The Supervisor consulted his datapad, “The course has been laid out with buoys, starting just beyond the star base, proceeding down the Rondian corridor, and back. You have been able to inspect the course?”

The Earthman nodded.

“And you found it satisfactory?”

“Perfectly.”

“Very good,” the Supervisor said. “The terms of the challenge require you to run the entire course, from the beginning buoy to the end and back again, and you must achieve an acceleration of twelve times the speed of light. We will monitor your progress from the control room. Should you fail to meet the requirements, or to engage the auto-piloting system at any time, you forfeit the challenge. Understood?”

The Earthman inclined his head. “I do.”

“There will be patrol ships standing by should you get into any trouble.” The Supervisor made a half bow. “Good luck. I believe that is what your people say at times like these?”

The Earthman smiled. “It is. And thank you.”

A brief nod to Jor-El, and the Supervisor headed off to the control room. Lara and Lor-Von shook hands with the Earthman according to human custom, and Jor-El bowed. They withdrew several yards away to give Kal-El some privacy while he conveyed his own well wishes.

“Be careful,” Kal said, his voice soft with worry.

The Earthman grinned. “I always am.”

Kal threw his arms around the Earthman’s neck. “I love you.”

The Earthman returned the embrace. “I love you, too.” And then he kissed Kal, for so long that only Lara’s restraining hand on Jor-El’s arm kept him from going over and breaking them apart.

When the Earthman released him at last, Kal whispered, “Come back and claim me.”

The Earthman smiled. “Count on it.” One more, brief kiss, and then he boarded his ship.

For a disquieting moment, Jor-El wrestled with the notion that perhaps the Earthman’s regard might be genuine after all, but he forced it away. They proceeded to the control room, where the Supervisor was already in communication with the Earthman’s ship.

“You have clearance to launch, _Icarus_.”

“Copy,” said the Earthman.

The Supervisor transferred the image from his console up to the big screen, and they all watched as the engine on the Earthman’s ship fired, the space doors retracted, and the ship took off.

“Proceed to the starting buoy, _Icarus_.”

“Copy that,” crackled the response.

The _Icarus_ moved into position, and everyone in the control room was so utterly silent every blip from the control panel seemed to echo off the walls.

“Are you ready, _Icarus_?” the Supervisor asked.

“Ready,” answered the Earthman.

“On my mark. Five, four, three, two…engage!”

The _Icarus_ shot forward, down the Rondian corridor, off to a good start and quickly picking up speed.

“Three times the speed of light,” the Supervisor called out.

Kal’s fingers curled around the edge of the console as he stared at the screen, his knuckles white. Jor-El did his best to appear impassive, but there was a desperate “no, no, no!” drumming through his thoughts.

“Five times,” the Supervisor announced.

Lara craned her neck for a better view. Lor-Von put a reassuring hand on Kal’s shoulder.

“Eight,” the Supervisor said in a strained voice. Even he seemed to be feeling the suspense.

“Come on, Lex. Come on,” Kal muttered under his breath.

“We’ve got ten, eleven…” He paused, waiting for the magic number.

Every eye in the control room was trained on the screen. They were all aware that they just might be about to witness history.

“Eleven times the speed of light,” the Supervisor repeated, and then the _Icarus_ put on one last burst of speed. “Twelve!”

“Yes!” Kal cried out.

Lor-Von and Lara exchanged a relieved glance, and everyone else began to talk excitedly about the Earthman’s feat, the first manned flight to break the speed barrier. Only Jor-El did not join in the spirit of celebration, a feeling in the pit of his stomach like an icy stone, everything he’d dreamed of for his son unraveling.

The _Icarus_ banked gracefully and began the return trip. Jor-El stared at the screen, hoping for something, anything, to happen, and then suddenly…it did. The _Icarus_ began to lose speed precipitously and finally limped to a stop, shy of the finish line.

The Supervisor hit a button on the console. “ _Icarus_ , come in. Are you experiencing mechanical difficulties?”

Several seconds passed without an answer.

“ _Icarus_ ,” he repeated, “do you read? Are you in need of assistance?”

When there was still no word from the Earthman, the Supervisor dispatched the patrol ships, “Execute rescue protocol alpha, Patrol One. Prepare to tow the ship to dock, Patrol Two.”

The two ships sped out to the Earthman’s craft. Lara held Kal’s hand as they waited for the crew to board and report back, the moments stretching out unbearably.

“Starpad Control, this is Patrol One,” an urgent voice came over the comm. “We have a medical emergency. Requesting medical personnel standing by.”

“Copy that, Patrol One. Can you give us any further information?”

“Looks like a serious case of interstellar decompression,” came the answer. “The med team should ready a hyperbaric chamber.”

“Will relay that, Patrol One.”

They all hurried to the landing bay to wait for the ship. Kal did his best to hold back his grief, but the occasional sob escaped him despite the effort. Lara hugged him hard and whispered reassuring words to him. Lor-Von exchanged a glance with Jor-El. The look in his eyes was not accusatory, just very disappointed.

The patrol ship carrying the Earthman docked, and the medical team rushed to meet it. They wheeled the Earthman off on a gurney, and the sight of him made everyone, even Jor-El, gasp. He was bloodlessly pale, his features twisted and frozen in a grimace of extreme pain, his limbs stiff and askew, jutting out at painful angles.

“Lex!” Kal cried and dashed over to him.

He took the Earthman’s hand and walked alongside the gurney as the medical team hurried him off to the infirmary.

Jor-El, Lara and Lor-Von followed. Lara kept her back to Jor-El, her shoulders stiff, her silence pointed. He understood the message perfectly clearly, that if he did not allow Kal to remain by the Earthman’s side she would never forgive him. He wanted to whisper to her that even he was not that unfeeling, but he feared she would not believe him.

In the infirmary, the medical technicians moved the Earthman onto an examination table, and a team of doctors quickly swarmed around him. Lara had to take Kal by the arm to keep him from getting in their way.

They could not seem to stabilize the Earthman’s condition and had to move him to the hyperbaric chamber anyway, even with his vital signs still wildly fluctuating.

“We’ll know more in a few hours,” was all the chief medical officer would tell them.

The staff found a chair and placed it beside the hyperbaric chamber. Kal huddled there, hand pressed against the thick plastic, as if hoping that the Earthman would somehow sense his presence.

“I believe there is a room down the corridor where we can wait,” Lor-Von said. “We’ll be close by if—” He stopped himself. “If Kal needs us.”

Jor-El followed them, with one last glance at his son. Kal rested his head against the barrier that separated him from the Earthman, his eyes tightly shut as if in prayer.

* * *

The Earthman nearly died in the night. Come the morning he was little better. They settled in for more waiting. Kal would not leave the Earthman’s side except for a few moments when absolutely necessary. Lara could not get him to eat, and no one had been able to sleep. It went on like this for days.

At the end of the fourth day when the Earthman’s condition had not changed, the medical officer told them, “You should prepare yourselves for the worst. If Lex Luthor has any family, they should be notified as soon as possible.”

Kal shook his head emphatically. “No. Lex isn’t going to die. I know he isn’t.”

Jor-El and Lara exchanged glances, deeply worried that Kal’s grief would consume him.

Perhaps they shouldn’t have doubted their son, though, because against all predictions, the Earthman’s vitals slowly began to strengthen, and by the time ten days had passed, he had regained consciousness at last.

“We’ll still need to watch him for signs of any long-term effects,” the chief medical officer said. “But it seems like he will eventually make a full recovery.”

Jor-El permitted Kal to stay out of school two weeks, to spend that time helping the Earthman during the first, difficult part of his recovery. When he was well enough to be out of bed for short periods of time, Kal reluctantly returned to his studies, although he still visited every afternoon after school. It was more than two months before the Earthman was strong enough to be released from medical care.

In all the worry for the Earthman’s health, the outcome of the last test had naturally been forgotten. It was only when he was settled at home once more, on the mend, that Kal came to discuss the matter. Jor-El led him into his study. He knew it was not going to be an easy conversation and closed the door behind them.

Kal began at once, before Jor-El could even take his seat, “Lex has undertaken all your challenges, father. He has proven himself worthy. We have discussed it, and he is willing to forego the azerim. We wish to be married as soon as possible. As soon as he’s well enough.”

“My son, you must realize that it gives me no pleasure to disappoint your expectations, especially when you have been so grieved by the Earthman’s unfortunate accident. But, in fact, Lex Luthor has not passed the Rite of Segeeth. When he failed to bring his ship back to the starting point, he failed the final test.”

Kal stared blankly for a moment, and then exploded with anger. “He did not bring his ship back because he almost _died_ , father! You know very well that he achieved the speed you set. He put his body through that, even though it wasn’t safe. That was the true test. It shows just how much he was willing to sacrifice to win me. You’re interpreting the challenge too narrowly, on purpose, to keep us apart.”

Jor-El held up a hand. “You wound me, Kal-El. If your teacher asked you to conduct an experiment and you completed everything but the final analysis of the data, would you expect to receive a passing mark?”

Kal did not answer, his eyes smoldering with outrage.

“To prove that I am a charitable man who wants your Earthman to have every opportunity to succeed,” Jor-El said in a conciliatory tone, “I will give him another chance to complete this final test, if he is amenable to that.”

Kal went pale. “He would never survive it.”

“If he wants you badly enough, surely he’d be willing to risk it?” Jor-El asked, with a raised eyebrow.

“ _I_ am not willing for him to take that chance,” Kal said hotly. “You know I’d never allow him to go through that again. Not for me.”

Jor-El knew that this was the crucial moment. Kal had been a loyal son, eager to please, since he was a little child, but young people in love did foolish things. Even now, Jor-El could see the rebellion brewing in him. He rose to his feet to face it down.

“Let us be clear, Kal-El. I do not give you my consent to marry the Earthman. So you have a choice to make, a very important one. You can accept the match I arrange for you. Take your rightful place in Kryptonian society. Come work with me at the Geophysics Institute. Be everything you were always meant to be. Or you can defy me. Break my heart. Be dead to me forever.”

The wounded look on Kal’s face hurt him more than Jor-El would ever admit to anyone. But he made his voice even harder to deliver the final blow, “Just remember at whose indulgence your Earthman does business on Krypton.” He smiled, and it felt ugly even to him. “Oh, I’m sure he could start all over from nothing somewhere else, make a success of himself again, if he had to. But is that what you really want for him, Kal-El? To be ruined? After all he’s already been through.”

“Please, don’t do this, father,” Kal whispered pleadingly, sounding so young and desperate.

Jor-El steeled himself. “My decision is final. Now you must make yours.”

Tears slid down Kal’s cheek, and he wiped them away. “As you wish, father,” he said after some minutes had gone by, his voice so empty he hardly sounded like himself. “I submit myself to your will.”

“You will renounce the Earthman?” Jor-El asked. “Never see him again?”

“He’ll never want to see me again after I tell him I’m going to marry someone else,” Kal said sadly.

Jor-El nodded, although without any satisfaction. “Then it is settled. I will make my choice by week’s end, and once we’ve completed the negotiations, you will undertake the azerim, and at the end of that, marry.”

Kal-El made no answer, his face a blank; he simply turned and left. Jor-El sat down heavily and stared out the window. It had all worked out for the best. He just had to keep reminding himself of that.

* * *

There was a saying that every Kryptonian school child learned by heart: “A tempest begins with a single drop of water and so it ends as well.” In the following weeks, life returned to its normal course in Jor-El’s household, in most regards. Whatever grief Kal felt at being separated from his Earthman he bore in silence. Suitors came once more to make their proposals, as if there had never been any such thing as the Rite of Segeeth. After careful consideration, Jor-El made his choice, a young widow named Zee-Vah, well-connected but with liberal ideas. They concluded the negotiations easily since there was much to recommend the match on both sides, and Kal-El had begun the azerim, the transitional period before a wedding took place to make certain the couple were compatible as husband and wife, a mere formality in all but the rarest of cases.

The azerim required parents to refrain from any contact with their newly betrothed child for a period of two months, so that new bonds could begin to form in place of the old ones. Since Kal had gone, Jor-El often found himself wandering the house aimlessly, adrift in the uncharacteristic silence. Lara kept to herself, busily tending her garden; she had not forgiven his decision, nor did it appear that she would forgive it any time soon. Jor-El did his best to focus on his work. _Finally I have the peace I need to make real advances in my research,_ he would tell himself, trying to make the empty house into some kind of prize. But no matter how hard he tried to concentrate, his mind soon drifted away from his calculations and back to thoughts of his son.

When he missed Kal the most, he would go into Kal’s room and sit there. Sometimes hours went by in this fashion without his even realizing it. Kal had taken most of his things with him, but Jor-El still sometimes looked through the drawers. He treasured whatever he found, old school papers, broken toys from Kal’s childhood.

Today, he picked up a clay vase that Kal had made in art class when he was ten, turned it over in his hands, and out fell a folded silk handkerchief. He retrieved it, opened it up, and there was the necklace the Earthman had given Kal, the one with the alien symbol. For a moment all Jor-El could do was stare at it. He wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much to see it. He couldn’t bring himself to put it back or throw it away, and he ended up pocketing it, thinking he’d figure out what to do with it later.

After that, he carried it around with him most all the time, taking it out to look at it sometimes, worrying it in his hand. It nagged at him, although he didn’t know why. Or perhaps he just wasn’t ready to face it.

It was a good month before Lara relented in her anger. One night over dinner, she surprised him, “I do not agree with your decision about Kal’s marriage. You know this. At the same time, I know that you have acted in what you believe to be his best interests. I have grown tired of all these strained silences in our house. Let there be peace between us again, my husband.”

He took her hand gratefully. “Nothing would please me more, my wife.”

 _And so the tempest ends, a single drop of water, indeed_ , Jor-El thought. The ancient philosophers possessed much wisdom.

They entered the second month of their separation from Kal, and although neither he nor Lara would admit it, they were counting the days until they could see him again. It was customary for the betrothed couple to host a party when the two months were done, and as the day approached, Jor-El could not seem to think of anything else. Lara, too, appeared distracted. They would sit together in the salon in the evening, and after a while, conversation would dwindle between them. Jor-El would recollect himself at last and glance over at Lara, only to find her staring aimlessly into space.

At last, the excruciating waiting came to an end. The night of the party they left for Zee-Vah’s house as early as decorum permitted. Kal’s intended wife resided in an elegant part of town, the old city, known for its cobblestone streets and many parks. Inside, the decor was stately, antiques from the Zeequwat Epoch on display alongside works of art by modern masters. Zee-Vah’s late husband had been a member of the ruling Synod in the capital. With no children to carry on his name, Zee-Vah was his only heir.

A quartet was seated at the far end of the salon, playing softly while the guests mingled. Zee-Vah, with Kal at her side, moved from group to group, offering her greetings, and Jor-El and Lara waited as patiently as they could to be received in their turn.

Jor-El took the opportunity to observe Kal. He looked well taken care of at the very least, dressed in a stylish robe that must have come from the capital, the light blue color chosen with care to complement his coloring. On his wrist, he wore a thick silver bracelet studded with brilliant blue azurilite and blood pearls. Zee-Vah, it appeared, did not believe in sparing any expense for her prospective husband.

It was the life that Jor-El had always dreamed of for his son, and yet he could not find any hint of the light of Inaure in Kal. He stayed quiet, speaking only when necessary, his eyes lowered. No doubt to everyone else his reticence must seem merely the natural caution of a young person during his azerim. Jor-El would have liked to believe that himself, but he knew his son too well.

At last, Zee-Vah worked her way to their end of the salon. Jor-El bowed as she approached. “We are honored to be received by the house of Vah.”

She returned the greeting, bowing to Jor-El and Lara, “The honor is all ours.” Now that the formalities had been dispensed with, she spoke with genuine warmth, “We are so pleased to see you here tonight. Kal has been careful not to say so, but I know that he has been very eager for this day to arrive.”

On cue, Kal made his bow and offered the formal greeting, “Father, Mother, I hope the blessings of Inaure have been with you these past months.”

Lara, never one for custom, replied, “Your father and I have both been well, my son, but it is difficult to feel the light of Inaure shining when you are not with us.”

Kal ducked his head. “I’ve missed you, too,” he told her softly.

Zee-Vah smiled gently. “I must go and see about the wine, but Kal, you’ll stay here and look after your parents, won’t you?”

He murmured, “Of course, Zee-Vah. Anything you wish.”

She gave him a quick smile, happy with his willingness to please, and left them to spend a little time together.

Lara squeezed Kal’s arm. “It is so good to see you, my son. You are looking very well.”

“Thank you, mother.”

Jor-El observed, “This house seems quite comfortable. How are you settling in?”

“Fine, Father,” Kal answered. “As you say, it is very comfortable here.”

Jor-El studied him. “And Zee-Vah? How have you found her so far?”

“She has been kind,” Kal said with apparent sincerity. “Very generous.”

“Are you all right, my son?” he came out and asked at last.

Kal met his eye. “I will always do my best to bring honor to the house of El, father. You need never doubt that.” He glanced across the room, his gaze settling on his wife-to-be. “I should return to Zee-Vah. I do not wish to keep her waiting.” A pause, and then he said in a softer voice, “I am very glad to see you. Zee-Vah was right. I have been most eager for this day to come.”

For the rest of the evening, Jor-El could pay only indifferent attention to the conversations going on around him, one eye always on his son. There was nothing in Zee-Vah’s demeanor to suggest that she was anything but attentive, even adoring. Sela-Jon had treated Jor-El like he was half-witted most of the time they were in public together. She had a very strict rule that he should never speak unless first spoken to, and even then, as briefly as possible. Zee-Vah, on the other hand, had a habit of turning to Kal, trying to draw him into her conversations. Whenever he did say something, she smiled approvingly.

In his pocket, Jor-El had Kal’s necklace. He wasn’t sure why he’d brought it tonight. It just seemed to be a habit he couldn’t break. He felt the charm with his fingers. _Two halves of the same whole_ , and why was it so difficult to believe anymore that the Earthman had been disingenuous when he’d said that? Jor-El glanced across the room at Kal. He’d only ever wanted to protect him from being left friendless and alone as he himself had once been, but he could see now how misplaced that fear was. Even if society did look down on marriage to an alien, there was still the reputation of the house of El to secure Kal. As long as Jor-El did not abandon him, he would always be safe, and Jor-El would never turn his back on his son.

He would just make him miserable trying to protect him from phantom dangers. The realization hurt Jor-El very deeply.

Lara touched him lightly on the arm, as if she could sense what was going through his mind. “Perhaps it is time for us to go, my husband?”

He nodded. “A wise suggestion, my wife.”

They bade farewell to Zee-Vah and Kal, who looked rather bereft to see them go. Jor-El’s thoughts weighed heavily on him as they walked home, and Lara did not interrupt his introspection. At home, she moved quietly about their room getting ready for bed. They lay down together, and Jor-El turned out the light.

In the darkness, she spoke at last, her voice a mere whisper, “There is still time to set it right, my husband.”

* * *

Jor-El spent the following morning deeply preoccupied with the question of how to break the marriage agreement. It was certainly possible, as Lara had said, but a very delicate matter, one that could give great offense if not handled properly. It seemed the only approach was simple honesty, to humbly lay before Zee-Vah his very great error, and beg her cooperation in righting the wrong.

To his surprise, Zee-Vah saved him the trip to call on her, coming to see him that very afternoon, bringing Kal-El along with her.

Jor-El was flustered to find her at his door. “It is an honor to receive the House of Vah,” he remembered to say after some awkward seconds had passed.

“The honor is ours,” Zee-Vah assured him.

He invited her into the salon, and Kal-El followed a few steps behind. He kept his head down, and Jor-El could not read his expression.

“Please sit down,” he told Zee-Vah. “May I offer you tea?”

“Actually, if it is no imposition, I would like to speak with you privately.”

Jor-El looked from her to Kal, who still would not meet his gaze. “Of course.”

He led her to his study, gestured to a chair. “Please.”

They took seats, and he waited with a polite expression for her to begin. She did not speak at once, as if gathering her thoughts. It was a true testament to his self-restraint that he did not just start quizzing her.

At last, she said, “I have come to seek your guidance on a matter of some importance.”

“You honor me with such a request. I fear I am not worthy to give counsel to a member of the house of Vah, but I am eager to assist you in any way I can.”

She acknowledged the compliment with a nod of her head. “Thank you, Jor-El.” Again she hesitated, “As we all know and rarely admit, there is a considerable adjustment to be made in marriage. I hope you will not think me untoward if I tell you that I cried most every day for the first month of my azerim.”

It was rather a bold admission, and Jor-El answered it as candidly as he knew how, “Taking on adult responsibility does not come without its sorrows.”

“Indeed.” She smiled ruefully. “The match was not of my choosing, needless to say. I preferred a young man I had known in school, but my father desired a more traditional union for me. As any dutiful daughter would, I bowed to his wishes.”

Jor-El’s first impulse was to say something about the nobility of such obedience, the predictable response, but the words tasted impossibly bitter in his mouth.

“Sometimes the sacrifices asked of children are very great,” he answered honestly.

“In fact.” She met his eye more directly that was technically proper, and to his surprise, he rather admired her for it. “I see that we understand one another on this subject.” She let out a little sigh. “I have come to see you today, as I’m sure you must realize, to speak of Kal. While I find him utterly charming and sweet, and believe he would be a fine husband, try as I might I cannot make him happy. I hoped at first that it was merely being separated from you and his mother that was grieving him, but I cannot delude myself any longer.”

She stopped and took a long breath, trying to find the right words, and Jor-El felt a stab of sympathy for her. There was no delicate way to put what needed to be said.

“I believe that there may be someone who has a greater claim on Kal,” she said plainly. “If you are amenable, we can simply dissolve our agreement, with no dishonor on either side.

Jor-El put away his pride, “I have made a very grave error, have acted dishonorably by you, my son and…another. I thank you, Zee-Vah, for allowing me the opportunity to correct my mistake.”

She nodded and rose. “I am pleased we could come to so easy an understanding. Now, I shall see myself out, and you can relay to Kal-El what has been decided.” At the door, she turned to make one last request, “You will give Kal my best wishes for his future happiness, won’t you?”

He bowed. “Of course. And thank you.”

Jor-El went at once to the salon and found Kal pacing by the windows, looking rather agitated.

When he saw his father, he stopped mid-stride, his face very pale. “I’m sorry, father. I tried. I really did. I never meant to shame you.”

Jor-El shook his head. “You have done nothing wrong, Kal.” He went to his son, put a hand on his shoulder. “I am the one who has acted shamefully, and I hope you will forgive me.”

“Father?” Kal said in confusion.

Jor-El took in a long breath and then unburdened his conscience, “Your Earthman was willing to endure much to win you, even risk death itself. I should have seen that his motives in wishing to marry you were proper, but my powers of observation have not been served me very well in this matter.”

He reached into his pocket, took out the necklace and pressed it into Kal’s hand.

“I had no right to keep you apart, but please believe that I only worried for your happiness. You do not know how cruel people can be, Kal-El, and there will be many who look down on you for making such a marriage. But if you still want your Earthman, then you shall have him.”

Kal turned the necklace over in his hand. “Do you really mean it, father?”

Jor-El smiled. “I do, my son.”

Kal broke into a smile, his face shining with the light of Inaure once again, and if Jor-El had had any lingering doubts that he’d chosen well they were gone now.

But then Kal’s shoulders drooped once more. “Lex probably hates me, after…everything.”

“Perhaps the Earthman’s pride is hurt, but I cannot not believe that he hates you.” Jor-El touched Kal’s face. “Do not grieve, my son. I will speak with Lex Luthor. I will explain. All will be well, you will see.”

“Do you really think so, father?” Kal asked hopefully.

“I know it, my son.” He tilted his head. “Now, can you give your father another smile? I have missed seeing it very much.”

Kal did, and then he hugged him. “Thank you, father.”

Jor-El pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I’m sorry that I was too stubborn to let you have your happiness sooner.”

* * *

Jor-El sent a communication to the Earthman’s lab, requesting to see him. Since the outcome of the Rite of Segeeth, they had conducted their business through third parties, avoiding contact at all costs. Despite his reassurances to Kal, Jor-El was not actually certain that the Earthman would agree to a meeting. So it was with much relief that he received the Earthman’s reply, even it was only a tersely worded message, giving the date and time he would call.

On the appointed day, Jor-El suggested to Kal that it would better if he went to his room to wait. “Let us settle the business first,” he reasoned. “Then I will send your Earthman to you, and you may discuss your affairs privately.”

“If you think that’s wise, father,” Kal agreed hesitantly.

Of course, Kal was most eager to see the Earthman again, but on the offhand chance that the Earthman’s heart had been hardened against the match, Jor-El preferred that Kal not witness it.

At the given hour, the Earthman arrived, met at the door by Lara who conducted him to Jor-El’s study.

“Lex Luthor is here to see you, my husband,” she told him.

Jor-El rose from behind his desk, made a bow. “It is good of you to come.”

The Earthman bowed and replied stiffly, “It is always an honor to be received by the house of El.”

Lara nodded to Jor-El—encouragement or approval, he wasn’t entirely certain—and left them to their business.

When they were settled, the Earthman began, “If you’ve asked me here to try to renegotiate the Volian grain contract—”

Jor-El cut him off, “I’ve asked you here for an apology.”

The Earthman’s face darkened. “And what it is exactly that I should be sorry for?”

Jor-El shook his head. “On the contrary, it is I who wish to express regret. I did not,” the words threatened to stick in his throat, but he thought of Kal, and forced them out, “act honorably in judging the Rite of Segeeth. You proved yourself worthy of my son. I should never have arranged another marriage.”

“But you did,” the Earthman said bitterly. “And what’s done is done.”

“Actually, that’s not entirely accurate.”

For the first time, the Earthman’s stony demeanor faltered a little, a spark of curiosity shining through. “I don’t take your meaning.”

“The marriage agreement has been dissolved, willingly, on both sides. Kal is free to make another match, and that is why I asked you here today. To let you know that if you were to renew your proposals, I would accept them on behalf of my son.”

The Earthman sat perfectly still, deep in silence. At last he said, “I’m not certain I can do that.”

“Your feeling for Kal has altered that substantially in the course of a few months then?” he asked skeptically. “That strikes me as strangely inconstant for a man who was willing to risk his very life to be allowed to wed.”

Anger sparked in the Earthman’s eyes. “Kal _chose_ to marry someone else. I was willing to take your damned test again, and I _would_ have succeeded. Kal just wasn’t willing to wait.”

“Kal wasn’t willing to watch you die,” Jor-El snapped back at him.

“In the legend, Segeeth says it’s as much a test of Numan’s love and devotions as it is his. And Numan never lost faith, never gave up.”

He said it with great vehemence, and Jor-El understood at last. Lex Luthor was a true believer, and a man who was still, despite everything, very much in love. Jor-El had greatly misjudged him.

“Numan never saw Segeeth in hideous agony from interstellar decompression and then had to send him out to face more of the same.” He paused and added with brutal honesty, “And Numan’s father never threatened to ruin all of Segeeth’s business prospects if his son dared to defy him.”

The Earthman met his gaze then, and Jor-El could read much in it, lingering bitterness and affronted pride, hatred even, but also the first glimmer of hope.

“If you honestly question the steadfastness of Kal’s love,” Jor-El told him quietly, “you should ask yourself how often a Kryptonian marriage agreement is dissolved.”

The Earthman looked thoughtfully into the distance, and after some consideration asked, “Would you wish to begin negotiations now or prefer some other time?”

Jor-El smiled and borrowed words from his own father-in-law, “We can talk about the details later. What matters now is that everyone’s happiness is secured.” He nodded his head toward the door. “Go. Kal is waiting for you in his room.”

Lex rose to his feet. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

He was starting toward the door when Kal came rushing. “I’m sorry, father. I know you said I should wait—” He stopped, eyes fastened on the Earthman. “Is everything—” He looked to Jor-El for reassurance.

The Earthman reached for Kal then, pulled him into his arms, embraced him.

Kal held tightly to the Earthman, and his voice caught in his throat. “I’m so sorry, Lex.”

“Sssh. None of that.” The Earthman stroked his hair. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Kal said softly.

The Earthman pulled back, touched Kal’s face very tenderly. “I have your father’s permission. So will you marry me?”

Kal took the Earthman’s hand and pressed it to his lips. “You know I will.”

They embraced again, and Jor-El gently suggested, “Perhaps you’d like to have some time alone together?”

Kal released the Earthman and smiled a little sheepishly. “Yes, father, we would like that.” He gave Jor-El a hug and whispered, “Thank you.”

His face as he left the room put Inaure to shame, and when Jor-El was alone again, he comforted himself with that, with the knowledge that he’d done the right thing at last. So this match was not what he had ever imagined when he’d contemplated his son’s future, but perhaps it would turn out well enough. The Earthman, it appeared, had studied every Kryptonian text in existence. He’d comported himself admirably enough at the spring festival to win the Matriarch’s favor, something Jor-El himself had never managed in all his years. The Earthman certainly had a lot of gall. Who knew? He might do very well in Kryptonian society, after all.


End file.
